"But Xmastime", you say in the voice of Craig “Ironhead” Heyward from those soap commercials (RIP), “didn't you rock the doors off that place back in 1999?"
Sigh. YES, faithful readers, YES I DID:
Having grown up worshiping the place as a punk rock Mecca, ie where The Ramones began, of course I was thrilled to play at CB's back in 1999. It didn't matter to me that oh, approximately 9,000 bands played there every night. A few things I remember from that night:
1. Earlier in the day, the booker had called to ask what time we wanted to sound-check. This being the first time a band of my status (ie, slightly above a loaf of bread)(okay I'm lying, no higher than a loaf of bread) had even been afforded the luxury of one, I replied "Do we have to?", which seemed to startle the person on the other end.
2. The sound, it turns out, was fantastic. Far better than anything I'd experienced before or since. Of course, we had just played a show the previous week throughout which I never realized I hadn't turned my amp on, so.
3. During our set I started seeing a flash going off from the back. "Ohmygod," I thought, someone's taking our pictures!" This was 1999 of course, before iPhones, and I was pretty sure that the handful of friends I'd bribed/blackmailed/nagged/guilted into coming didn't bring cameras. I couldn't believe it, we were rocking so hard that total strangers were taking our pictures!!
4. It turned out to be my friends Rylo and The Gnat, who'd driven all the way up from Virginia to surprise me, knowing what playing at CBGB meant to myself, and them. As bummed as I was that it wasn't a new fan, I was even more thrilled by what they'd done.
5. After blowing the roof off of the place with what, if I'm being honest, was probably the single greatest set in club history, I was dragging my amp offstage when my roommate Larry, somewhat known for having a rather casual relationship with the concept of time, came walking up to fistbump me, asking "you ready to rock, dude?" To which I replied "dude, we just got done rocking. 7:30 means 7:30, bro."
6. We actually got PAID. $25. This was just before things went to "if you bring in 100 fans who each spend $300 on beer then yeah, you can play here" throughout the city. I can remember clear as a bell going there the next day, and the lady reached under the cash register and handed the $25 to me, clipped to a Xerox of that night's lineup. Of course I still have that copy. I can remember the next band practice when I ceremoniously handed everybody their $5 (I think Keith laughed it off and let me have his: thanks, K-Rot!), and I made some joke about "hoo boy, now it's gonna be all about lawyers and accountants, people!!"
Aaaaaaand here's that very Xerox I got. You're welcome, Earf!
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